


Going Home

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2626913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair have come to the end of a holiday</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sentinel Thursday, prompt 'leave'

Going Home

by Bluewolf

We've had a great break, but now it's time to leave. Time to go home again, time to return to the stress of living in 'the great city'.

Two weeks of rest and relaxation, camping wild in Cascade National Forest, has worked wonders to revive both of us. We were totally burned out, but now? We both feel able to return from the peace, the civilization, of the forest to the jungle of the city. We've even - with Simon's blessing - kept our phones switched off, though we do have them in case an emergency were to arise out here.

I can't help it, though - I'm already counting the days till the next time we can escape for a few days, escape from the city and unwind. Though it's getting late in the year; we probably won't get time off again until at least the second week of December, and too cold to camp. Officially we don't work weekends (Jim because he has the seniority, me because I'm his partner) but we often are called out at the craziest times because of some new crime that's just surfaced. Criminals never rest; so those of us in law enforcement don't rest either.

Don't get me wrong; I like Cascade. Note - I don't say I love it. Who _could_ love a city? But I do like it. Since that's where our work is and for convenience we have to live there, Cascade's a better place to live than many of the cities I've visited. And we both enjoy our work; we're doing a lot of good, we've helped a lot of people. There's no denying, though... so often we - all of us at the PD - feel that we're wasting our time. For as many criminals as we take off the street, there always seem to be more, ready and very, very willing to take their place. There are the lawyers who swear black is white, who can twist facts so that they mean the exact opposite of what a witness is saying, to get someone they have to know is victimizing society declared innocent by the court. Though these lawyers tend to hate Jim - he sticks to the bare facts when he's giving evidence, can't be sidetracked into offering supposition - that's their main weapon when they're trying to discredit a witness.

Me? They're not too fond of me, either. I know I can be easily sidetracked, though not into speculation; I can be sidetracked into giving unnecessarily detailed description, which in its own way is as annoying for them. But I try to follow Jim's lead, and stick with monosyllabic answers.

Seriously, neither of us is ever happy about being in court - I doubt any cops are - though it's an unavoidable part of the job... and possibly the most stressful.

Anyway, now we're fully occupied rolling up the sleeping bags, taking down the tent, packing everything up in preparation for the mile-long hike back to Jim's truck.

We check the ground, making sure we haven't left anything that doesn't belong. The firewood we gathered and didn't use we leave in a pile not too far from the firepit, but dead branches are natural - they belong here in the forest. Odds are that next time we come that wood pile will still be here - we've never seen any sign that anyone else uses this particular clearing as a camp site. Of course, that mile from the nearest possible parking place will discourage a lot of campers - they'd rather have their vehicle parked beside their camp so that they don't have to carry anything more than three or four yards.

All our rubbish is in a garbage bag attached to my pack (we take turns carrying it out) - not that there's much; we burn as much as possible, then scatter the ash thinly - it's all good fertilizer for the undergrowth. What we carry out is what's recyclable, or what won't burn. Come to think of it, a lot of what won't burn - or won't burn down to a fine ash - is recyclable.

As we turn to go, a sudden gust of wind blows some yellowing leaves off the trees, reminding us that it's well into Fall. Some of them land in the firepit, hiding the blackened stones.

One last look around, and we set off, relaxed, comfortable in our friendship. In twenty minutes or so we'll be back at the truck, in half an hour we'll be on the road back to Cascade. But our batteries - Jim's in particular - have been recharged, leaving us ready to face a few more weeks of life in what often feels like the most dangerous city in America.


End file.
